


Return

by thornsword (eeeeeeee)



Category: No. 6 (Anime & Manga), No. 6 - All Media Types, No. 6 - Asano Atsuko
Genre: 'reunion will come shion' COME ON MAN, Angst, Fluff, M/M, Nezushi - Freeform, Reunion Fic, bc nezumi needs to come back
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-27
Updated: 2016-03-27
Packaged: 2018-05-29 10:53:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6371944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eeeeeeee/pseuds/thornsword
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>From a post on tumblr that I have since lost the link to. Shion pretends he can't remember Nezumi when he comes back because four years without knowing if you were even alive is too long.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Return

**Author's Note:**

> Heyo
> 
> So I have a lot of pent-up feelings about Nezumi's bullshit 'reunion will come.' WHEN NEZUMI? HOW LONG DO WE HAVE TO WAIT?
> 
> Warnings: swearing and OOCness
> 
> Disclaimer: I could never create something as amazing as No. 6
> 
> Beta: the ever-amazing trxylerhxwellter on tumblr
> 
> Enjoy!

Shion never gets out of bed as soon as he’s awake. He _can’t_. At first he’ll just lie there, with an immovable weight pressing down on his chest. The weight has a name, a face and he knows he used to be able to remember his features more sharply than that.

 

Nezumi. He hasn’t seen him in _four years._

 

He’ll lay there, on his bed, with the sun’s first rays peeking in through the curtains and get crushed under the weight that increases every day. He’ll wonder if Nezumi’s still alive, if he’s doing okay, if he’s having fun, if he’s laughing if crying or missing Shion as much as Shion misses him because _it hurts._ It hurts _so very much_ and he doesn’t know if it’ll ever _end-_

 

And then he gets up. 

 

Shion gets up, dresses himself, then goes downstairs to help his mother with the bakery. 

 

There’s a blank, white space inside him and he doesn’t know what to do with is. It’s been there since he left but Shion doesn’t cry anymore. 

 

He doesn’t cry over the fading image in his mind, he doesn’t cry over how he doesn’t remember what it was like to touch him, or how he used to smile. He doesn’t cry over Nezumi. Nezumi is free of the city that bound him for so long, and Shion is happy for him. 

 

(Or, at least he will repeat it until it is true.)

 

Almost unconsciously, Shion grabs his apron from the hook and sections off a corner of the tabletop workspace that isn’t being used by his mother and begins to make a pie. He doesn’t know which kind yet but figuring it out will take his mind off his own traitorous thoughts. 

 

(He is happy for Nezumi.)

 

His mother is bustling around the oven, humming under her breath as she slides in a new batch of muffins. Her eyes are tired and her wrinkles are a little deeper, but she looks happy. She kisses Shion on the cheek as she passes him and they continue to work together in silence. 

 

The bell rings, but Shion doesn’t look up. It’s surprising to have customers at this time, but not uncommon. He continues pushing the pie crust dough into the pan. 

 

“…Hello,” says the customer. It’s one word - hesitant and unsure and Shion heard the shaky intake of breath before the word was spoken. 

 

It’s Nezumi. 

 

He’s back. 

 

Shion doesn’t react. He hasn’t figured out how he’s going to yet. His fingers knead the dough carefully and then suddenly it’s as if his chest has been filled with lava. A white hot rage and smoke that clogs his lungs and fire that swims in his eyes. The red, red anger fills the white space and it’s not right, but at least it’s not empty anymore.

 

Four years. 

 

Four _fucking_ years without a word and suddenly it’s just _‘hello?’_

 

No way. Shion has put himself through too much for a simple _hello._

 

He looks up. He smiles and greets Nezumi as if he were a normal customer. 

 

“Hello, how may I help you?” 

 

Nezumi’s face falls and his perfectly straight posture slumps. Shion feels a twinge of grim satisfaction and wondered when Nezumi had learnt to show his emotions on his face. 

 

“I… um,” Nezumi starts, staring at Shion’s hair, his scar, his clothes - anything but his eyes, “just some uh… of that one.”

 

He points to a pastry in the display case, still staring at Shion. His features harden, the mask slips back on and he’s Nezumi again. 

 

Sharp eyes, a quick tongue and more empathy than he cares to admit. 

 

The smoky rage disappears. The lava dries and cracks and falls apart. 

 

_Nezumi,_ he thinks, over and over and _over_ again because now that he’s let go of that haze of anger it fully registers just what’s in front of him. _Nezumi._

 

Shion’s fingers twitch by his sides and he wipes them on his apron. He finally meets Nezumi’s gaze and he has never seen anyone so desperately trying to hide his emotions than that man was. 

 

The grim satisfaction was gone. The white expanse of nothingness was back - when had it gone? - and Shion was shaking. He couldn’t take it. 

 

Static was filling his mind. He wasn’t thinking- there was nothing _to_ think. Nothing to think and everything to _feel_ because _Nezumi was back._ Back and here and safe and _alive._

 

He dropped the pair of tongs - not caring where they landed, sanitation be damned. - and sidestepped the counter, before throwing his arms around Nezumi’s middle, holding him close and he rested his chin on Nezumi’s shoulder. 

 

Still taller than him. Dammit.

 

———

 

Whoever said Shion was pure, or sweet, or kind was a fucking liar. 

 

(Wait that was him wasn’t it. Oh well.)

 

Nezumi could have sworn his heart was in his throat as he pushed open the bakery door - alive and thumping and blocking his throat. He couldn’t breathe. Since when was _talking_ so hard? He used to talk for a living. He talked to hundreds of people on his travels, whether it was to swindle them or just pass the time. 

 

But here, in this city, in front of _him,_ Nezumi just… couldn’t. 

 

He was stuttering and hesitant and he’s had four years to think up a monologue for when he would see Shion again - full of metaphors and shakespeare quotes and dumb stuff like love _-_ and yet what came out of his mouth was _hello._

 

He was pathetic. 

 

Shion finished fiddling with the dough and looked up. Whatever Nezumi imagined their reunion to be - in the long nights under the stars, in the storms and bumpy hitchhiked lifts - it wasn’t _this._ It wasn’t those eyes, bright and happy and no trace of familiarity in his features. 

 

Nezumi knew before Shion even opened his mouth that he had been forgotten. It was laughable, really. The punishments the universe kept forcing upon him were too cruel. First he sees Shion - right when he needed him, _screaming_ and _yelling_ like no one in this city ever had. 

 

Shion had given him life, in the form of crude stitches and hot cocoa, and now he was gone. Gone in the worst way possible because for a while Shion was his _,_ and he was Shion’s. Both of them, together, in that small room with far too many books and a small bed.

 

_Shit. Think up a reason for coming in. Fuck. Quick._

 

“I… um,” the words stuck in his throat and he couldn’t meet Shion’s gaze, “just some uh… of that one.”

 

His tense muscles relaxed, disappointment and regret spreading out from his chest and along his limbs like a poison. Maybe if he hadn’t left, Shion would have…

 

No. No, he had to leave. Leaving then was the reason he could return now. It was why he could _stay_ now. If he hadn’t left Nezumi knows he would have grown to hate everything. The city, the streets, the people, _Shion._

 

He’s still lost in the depths of his mind when it happens. Suddenly all he can see is white, fluffy hair and there’s warmth around his waist. 

 

_Shion,_ he registers numbly, _Shion’s hugging me._

 

_But why. He doesn’t remember me. I was gone for so long, I didn’t… I didn’t send word, I didn’t…_

 

_Wait._

 

_That little shit._

 

His acting had gotten better, or maybe it was a split second miracle. Nezumi didn’t know and he wasn’t sure if he was angry or glad so he just wrapped his arms around Shion, pulling him close - _closer, closer -_ and it was like there were fireworks under his skin. 

 

He pulled back slightly, staring into those impossibly red eyes and-

 

“Shion can you- oh! Is that a friend of yours darling?”

 

They sprung apart, the distance between them denying that they’d ever been so close.

 

“Mum!” Shion exclaimed, flustered, “um, yes this is my… my…”

 

The silence was a good point. What they were didn’t matter to them, they were whatever they wanted to be, but explaining it to Karan was a bit… difficult. 

 

“My name is Nezumi,” he interrupted, holding a hand out and smiling amicably. 

 

Karan smiled. “So _you’re_ Nezumi,” she said, placing down the tray of pastries and hugging him tight. 

 

Today had involved a lot of hugging already, almost more than he was okay with but the way Karan’s hands trembled as she clutched his shirt like a lifeline made him wish he had grown up with a mother like her. 

 

Karan pulled away, and slowly raised her hands to cup his face. “Thank you,” she whispered, eyes welling up and smile quivering, “thank you for taking care of him, and showing him that there’s more to life than the walls of this city.”

 

Nezumi didn’t know what to say. He just stared into those familiar, kind eyes - the same eyes he saw in Shion - and wondered offhandedly if it was ok for his heart to feel this big. 

 

She withdrew her hands, smiled knowingly at Shion, and left the room. 

 

Morning sunlight streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows and there was suddenly _far too much_ space between him and Shion. Nezumi stared out into the empty cobblestone street and what he would have been doing right now if he had come earlier. 

 

Four years was too long. 

 

Shion grabbed his hand and walked up the stairs, which lead to a single corridor. They went into the first room on the right. It had a plain set out - a bed, a table, some shelves with carefully lined up books on them. 

 

“I wonder if the spare bed will even _fit_ in here,” Shion mumbled, staring at the unoccupied space. 

 

Nezumi let go of Shion’s hand before moving forward and flopping down onto the bed. “There’s an easy solution to that,” he smirked, looking pointedly at the man in front of him. 

 

Shion paused, staring at the bed thoughtfully. “I don’t want to get it out today anyway,” he shrugged, “just for tonight, we’ll have to sleep together.”

 

“Oh yes, what a tragedy. We’ll just _have_ to sleep together.”

 

Shion smiled at his sarcasm and sat down next to him. “And before I forget…”

 

He leaned down and placed his lips on Nezumi’s. The kiss was warm and slightly lopsided and they were both smiling into it but it was the best Nezumi had felt in four years. _This_ was what Shion tasted like, _this_ was what he felt like. Soft and smooth and familiar and he really was going to explode if his heart got any bigger.

 

“That was a welcome home kiss.”

**Author's Note:**

> Who doesn’t like a good hella fucking cheesy ending??
> 
> Anyway, please tell me what you thought and if anyone knows who made that post in the first place I’d love to credit them!
> 
> As always,
> 
> thornsword


End file.
